


Blue

by Tonystarkisadad



Category: Schitt’s Creek
Genre: Angst, David loves Patrick, Future Fic, M/M, Only a few years though, Romance, Sickfick? sort of?, Stevie is a good friend, TW: cancer/terminal illness, darick - Freeform, kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonystarkisadad/pseuds/Tonystarkisadad
Summary: At a regular trip to the doctor a few years after their marriage, Patrick mentions that he’s been having trouble with his balance lately. The next thing he knows, he’s landed himself in Toronto Medical Center with a not-so-wonderful diagnosis. David, of course, is losing his mind. Will Patrick pull through this one? Will David stay sane?Aka the author watches too much greys anatomy





	1. Anything it takes

David felt like he was suffocating. This room was far too small to hold him, all of them. He needed to get up, to move, to breathe, but he was frozen in his seat, staring directly at the scan the doctor was pointing to. His explanation did little for David, who only heard pieces and bits. _Tumor. Malignant. Spreading. Surgery. Specialist._

David could not breathe. 

He coughed a few times to clear his airway as well as his head, and felt a comforting hand on his knee. All of a sudden, he felt like the shittiest husband in the world—Patrick was the one receiving the worst news of his life, and he was comforting David when it should be the other way around. Feeling guilty but suddenly determined to be strong, at least for now, he took Patrick’s hand in his own and rubbed circles as he tried to focus on the doctor’s words. 

“-so I’ll go ahead and send the scans, and you two should head on over there right now. She’ll be waiting for you. I wish I could tell you more, I really do, but I know she’ll do everything she can. She’s one of the best.”

_Everything she can._ The words echoed and boomed in his head. That sounded like a death sentence if David ever heard one. 

He looked up as Patrick cleared his throat, speaking for the first time since the doctor broke the news. “So,” he said slowly, carefully, “What are—what are the chances of being fine after this?”

The doctor gave him a sad smile, like he was telling a kid there was no more ice cream. David hated it. “I can’t tell you exactly; Doctor Brown will know more. But I know it’s somewhere around 10%.”

David squeezed Patrick’s hand at that. Just ten? Ten fucking percent? One in ten, that David’s life could go back to normal and he could grow old with this man. Nine out of ten that—

He couldn’t think about it. 

He hated the number 10. 

Next to him, Patrick sucked in a breath. “Oh. Okay.”

David tried to focus on his breathing. In a trance, he followed Patrick as he signed all the necessary papers and lead the way out to the car, letting go of his hand only to open doors or let him pick up a pen. 

Standing outside the car, David wordlessly pulled Patrick in for a hug, maybe a little too roughly, and held him close, pressing his lips to his hairline. 

After a long moment, Patrick broke the silence. “I’m gonna be fine.”

David’s first instinct was to argue, say there was no way of knowing that, and chances were he wouldn’t be fine. He didn’t want to crush what little hope Patrick still had, though, so he nodded into the hug. “And I’ll be right here, I swear.” He left another soft kiss before pulling away. “We should... probably go.”

Patrick nodded. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah, sure.” As if David would let Patrick drive. 

The last thing David wanted was two hours alone with his thoughts, so he tried to fill the silence as gracefully as he could. They talked about changing the store’s hours, about Alexis’s fight with Ted, about Stevie’s new cat, anything to keep him distracted. Distracted from the image of that MRI that was now tattooed in his brain. Distracted from that doctor calmly delivering a death sentence to the first person he had ever let himself love. Distracted from his once certain but now very uncertain future with said person. Distracted from all the kids they may never get to have, all the dogs they won’t adopt—

He blinked away tears more than once, determined not to let Patrick see him cry. Not yet. They didn’t even know anything. Maybe the doctor was wrong, he wasn’t a specialist—

David forced himself to focus on the present as he pulled into Toronto Medical Center. They had a mission, and Patrick needed him. David wasn’t good at a lot of things, but when he knew he was needed his anxiety of disappointing kicked in and he performed. 

They told the lady at the counter their names—David and Patrick Brewer—and it didn’t take long for a nurse to push Patrick into a wheelchair (despite his obvious walking abilities, it was “hospital policy”). She moved fast, and David was forced to quicken his stride just to keep up. 

The woman—David didn’t catch her name—dumped them in a room and said the doctor would be by shortly. 

David sat down in the chair next to the bed and caught his breath. Patrick sat atop the bed, still fully clothed and making no attempt to change into the hospital gown the woman left him. David didn’t blame him. 

“So I guess we’ll be here a while?” Patrick wondered aloud, looking at his hospital bracelet and the gown. 

“I guess so,” David agreed, meeting his eyes. The gravity of the situation at hand seemed to overpower all of David’s senses besides Patrick’s eyes in front of his. He tried to memorize his eyes, wondering how many more times he could see them. Brown had never been more alluring. 

Just then, a short woman in a white coat and short black hair stepped in. “Hi, are you Patrick?” She asked brightly.

Patrick tore his eyes away from David and look at the woman. “That’s me.”

“Great!” She shook his hand and pulled out his chart. “I’m Dr. Brown, I’m the neurosurgeon here at Toronto Medical. I looked at your scans, and I wanted to talk to you two about your options.” She glanced at David. 

“Husband,” he answered before she could ask. He’d never get tired of saying that, ever. Of being David Brewer. Of belonging to someone. 

She nodded. “I’m not gonna waste time. You really only have one option here, if you choose to treat it. I could try to remove it, going in from the back here.” She touched the back of her neck for reference. “It’s pretty close to your brain stem, so it’s risky, but i think it could be done.”

“What are the risks?” Patrick asked, sounding calm, like he’d already accepted that he had cancer and was ready to get his shit together. David could not be further from relating. 

“Well, if we hit the spinal chord you could be paralyzed, but I don’t think that’s likely to happen. What’s more risky is getting access to all of it. I think it’s pretty accessible, but it’s hard to tell with the images. If it’s too deep into the brain matter, we won’t be able to remove it without cutting your brain matter, which could kill you. And if we leave any in, it’ll just grow as if we didn’t touch it, and it will eventually kill you.” She spoke slowly, making sure they understood. David appreciated her taking this more seriously than the last doctor. 

“And if we don’t do anything?”

David’s head snapped up to Patrick. What the hell was he thinking? Of course they would treat it. They’d do whatever the fuck they could to kill what was killing him. 

“You would have maybe 6 months, if I’m being generous.” Dr. Brown spoke softly. “It’s completely up to you two. You can talk it out, and I’ll be back in a little while to check up on you.”

Patrick nodded, studying the sheets of the bed. “Okay.”

She left after telling them a nurse would be in to draw blood. 

David chewed his lip and looked at Patrick. “What...” He paused, trying to find the words. “What are you thinking?”

Patrick’s eyes met his for a moment before flitting away. “I think surgery is the strongest option.”

David breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. For a second there I thought you were considering just walking out of here.”

Patrick smiled a little sadly. “Just like to know all my options.”

“And I love that about you.” David shifted his seat to the foot of the bed and draped an arm across Patrick’s shoulders. He was not great at hiding his panic, and he was sure Patrick could sense it. 

“I know you hate blood.” Patrick smiled at him and David almost melted beneath its weight. “Maybe when she comes to draw it you can call Stevie? If we’re here for a while you’re gonna want a change of clothes, and I could use a toothbrush and a phone charger.”

David hadn’t even thought about that yet. “You’re right, I need to call her.” He hesitated. “I can stay here and hold your hand, though, if you want? I just won’t look?” It was evident he didn’t really want to do that. 

Patrick laughed quietly. “I’m a big kid, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer, though.”

David leaned forward and kissed him softly. After four years of marriage, Patrick’s mouth was a familiar, comforting place. David tried to push as much love as he could convey in a gentle, drawn out kiss. When they finally pulled apart, Patrick nudged his forehead against David’s. 

“I’m scared,” he confessed, his voice near a whisper. 

David’s heart shattered and he pulled Patrick closer for a hug. “Me too,” he murmured into his hair. “We’ll figure it out. She seems to think you have a fighting chance.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. A fighting chance? He didn’t want to make it seem like Patrick would have to fight for his life. 

It seemed to bring comfort, though, because Patrick smiled into his shoulder. “I think so too.”

There was a knock on the door, and they pulled apart unwillingly. A nurse walked in, pushing a tray with empty vials and a big needle, and David took his cue. “Love you,” he called over his shoulder as he all but ran out of the room, desperate to escape not only the needles but also the overwhelming seriousness of the situation at hand. 

He walked down the hall, trying to put distance between him and the room, but it didn’t make him feel much better. With a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. it was only 2:15, so Stevie was no doubt at work—meaning she was definitely not doing anything and would pick up. 

Just as predicted, Stevie picked up on the second ring. “Hey, how was the doctor?” she asked immediately, and David winced. 

“Um. About that. I need to ask you a huge favor?” The words tumbled out of him but he was tired of pretending to be calm for the last 3 hours, so he didn’t bother filtering his words. “We’re at the hospital. In Toronto. And we need you to bring us some stuff? Like clean underwear, toothbrushes, the basics. We-“ his breath caught in his throat. “We could be here for a while.”

“What the hell happened? I thought you went to the doctor in Elmdale to get shots.” He heard shuffling on her end, and he knew she was gathering her stuff getting ready to leave. 

“Uh, yeah, we did.” He cringed. “Um, Patrick has been losing his balance a lot lately? And we told the guy. And a lot of stuff happened and they did an MRI and-” David sniffed, trying to keep his emotions in check. “Patrick has a brain tumor.” His voice wobbled, and felt something wet on his cheeks. Saying it out loud made it real. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. 

“Oh my god,” Stevie breathed, for once without a sarcastic remark. “David, I’m so sorry. How–how bad is it?”

“Six months,” he said simply. “They’re gonna try do surgery.”

“Oh my god,” she repeated. 

“Uh, yeah?” David wiped his eyes. Luckily for him this hallway was secluded; no one was witnessing his breakdown. 

“I’ll be there in two hours,” she spoke suddenly. 

David sniffled. “It’s a three hour drive.”

“I’ll be there in two,” she repeated. “I’ll just run to your apartment real quick.”

David rubbed his eyes. He didn’t deserve a friend like Stevie. “Don’t tell anyone? You’re the only one who knows.”

“Of course not.” Her voice was firm and confident, an anchor for him. 

“I love you,” he blurted. It wasn’t the first time he’d told her, but it wasn’t really a habit. 

Her voice grew soft. “I love you, too. Patrick too. By the way, he’s probably scared out of his mind? So you should probably go do something about that. Maybe play uno or make out or something.”

David laughed through his tears. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here?” 

“Bye, David.”

“Bye.” He ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.


	2. I want you

David slipped back into the room as confidently as he could manage, and Patrick looked up as he entered. His eyes were dark, as if he’d already accepted his own death, and he took David’s hand as he drew closer. David immediately felt guilty for leaving him alone for so long; he knew if their roles were reversed, he’d be out of his mind and would lose it if he was ever left alone.

“Hey,” Patrick said quietly but still surprisingly calmly. “They only get like two channels here, so I thought we could watch Netflix on my phone.”

David nodded. He slipped behind Patrick on the bed and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his chest against his back and resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. It did little to soothe the gnawing in his stomach. 

Patrick leaned into the touch, drawing in a deep breath. “I was thinking The Office or something?” _Something light and thoughtless. Distracting._ David could hear what he really meant to say.

“Yeah, okay!” He said, feigning enthusiasm. “My favorite episode is when Michael has a dinner party. I think it’s like season six? Or something.”

Patrick found it after a little scrolling (it was actually season four; David couldn’t be right about _everything_ ). 

He felt Patrick relax in his arms as the episode started, and David pressed a soft kiss to the skin behind his ear. It wasn’t sexy; it was intimate, a way of telling Patrick he was here for him even if he couldn’t actually say the words. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw a small smile settling on his face. 

They’d just finished the episode and were waiting the fifteen seconds for the next one to auto play when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s Dr. Brown,” she called before entering the room. David licked his lips and let go of Patrick, leaning against the headboard—could you call it that?—of the disgusting hospital bed. 

Under normal circumstances, David would probably rather be swimming in alligator infested mud than be go inside a hospital, much less touch things and sit on their furniture. It wasn’t necessarily medical things; he definitely enjoyed many season of Grey’s Anatomy, though he had to look away at the most gory parts. That wasn’t real, so it had no affect on him. Here, though, he wondered how many dirty hands had touched the table or the sink or the window, or how many people had peed in that bed or fallen on the floor. He wondered how many patients had receive bad news right in this very room, been told their organs were failing or there was no treatment or they only had six months to live. How many loved ones had pushed back tears and held their child or spouse or cousin or friend close.

That was the main reason David hated hospitals. 

Patrick’s whole body tensed just slightly, and he rested his chin on his fist as he looked up at the doctor who held his fragile life in her hands. 

“Have you two decided what you wanna do yet?” she started. “I’m sorry I’m rushing you, but it’s really best we start working immediately, if that’s what you want.”

The rooms was suffocatingly silent for a beat before Patrick cleared his throat. “We want to treat it. Uh, we want to do the surgery you suggested.”

The woman nodded. “Okay, we’re gonna try and work fast. Every day that we put it off is another day it grows, making it harder to remove. With that being said, I want to try and do it tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow morning. Less than a day away. Before these strangers cut into his gorgeous, kind, sweet, annoying, perfect husband’s skull and try not to kill him while saving his life. 

She left with an encouraging word that David hardly heard, and a nurse came in with a stack full of papers for Patrick to sign. 

The nurse explained all the risks all over again, and David tried to listen dutifully. He watched as Patrick signed papers for anesthesia, for the surgery, for his organ donation should they slip with their knife. David was a big supporter of organ donation—was an organ donor himself, in fact—but the thought of another person walking around with his husband’s heart or lungs or liver or anything else just days or even hours after he slipped away didn’t sit right with him. He wasn’t gonna take away organs from anyone who needed them, though, so he pushed his emotions away and coughed in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. There was definitely a big chance it wouldn’t even come to that, and David had to remind himself for the thousandth time to hold onto that. Things never really seemed to work out well for him, but his life with Patrick always had. Surely one more thing wasn’t too much to ask for? 

Six years ago, David would’ve resigned himself to Patrick’s death, would be shaking in a corner right now just knowing he was about to lose the best thing that ever happened. Granted, he wasn’t handling flawlessly now, but it was better than old David ever could’ve. New David had learned to hope, rather than shy away for fear of being disappointed. New David knew how to love recklessly, without fear of getting hurt, and that was exactly what he planned on doing now. 

The surgery was scheduled for eight the next morning. 

Patrick laid a hand on David’s shoulder. “I think I’m gonna call my parents now.” 

“Okay.” David kissed him softly, taking a second to inhale his scent. Even with the disgustingly overpowering hospital smell, he could smell his shampoo, his laundry detergent, _Patrick_. He relished in it. Nothing else mattered besides this blond human leaning against his thigh and cutting off circulation. David would happily lose his leg entirely if it meant he could keep Patrick forever. 

They pulled apart, and Patrick dialed his mother’s number. David thought once again about calling his parents, or even texting them to let them know, but he couldn’t bear to have them here. He knew they had the best intentions, but they could be overpowering. They’d say awkward things and hide their fears poorly and make David more antsy. He loved his parents, and they loved him and Patrick, but they did so awkwardly. Right now he couldn’t handle it. 

He pulled out his phone as he felt a vibration. A text from Stevie. 

-What room are you in?

David tapped out his reply. _432_

-k

He chewed his lip and stared at his phone screen, doing his best not to listen to Patrick talking to his parents. He wasn’t really interested in hearing the heartbreaking news again.

It couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes before a knock came at the door. 

“Come in,” David called out as quietly as possible, trying not to interrupt Patrick’s phone call.

Stevie walked in, carrying a trash bag over her shoulder like Santa Claus. 

“Very classy,” David said instead of greeting her, nodding at the bag. 

Stevie dropped the bag against the wall. “Seemed fitting, since I’m carrying all of our shit in it.”

“Our?” he questioned, turning his body to face her. 

“I grabbed some stuff of my own too,” she admitted. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

David didn’t have a response for that unexpected sincerity, so he said instead, “Who’s feeding Fido while you’re gone?”

She gave him a fixed stare. “Her name is Freya and you know it. Alexis is supposedly going to check on her, but I texted Ted too so maybe it’ll actually happen.”

“Wise choice.” He smirked a little at successfully getting her riled up. “What did you tell Alexis you were doing?” 

“Visiting my mother.” Stevie took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “I’m banking on the fact she doesn’t remember my mother’s dead.”

“I think that’s a safe bet,” David replied. He felt so much more relaxed with her here, like everything today hadn’t actually happened and she was here to make fun of him for believing any of it. She was a much needed distraction. 

“Hey, Stevie.” Patrick drooped his phone on the bed. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

“Of course,” she responded. “There’s no chance I wouldn’t be here.”

Patrick smiled. “I think you being here has made David’s breathing even out for the first time maybe all day.”

Stevie raised her eyebrows. “I’m surprised he hasn’t just died from shock already, to be honest.”

“Are you kidding me?” David interrupted. “It’s been an intensely stressful day, okay? Is this really the time to bully me?”

He didn’t mean it, really. They all needed something to laugh at, and David was happy to be that. 

“So,” Stevie spoke up more seriously, “Anyone gonna give me an update or do I have to go ask a nurse?”

Patrick’s eyes fell on David. He was probably sick of explaining it, after having just talked to his parents, he realized. “Uh, yeah, Patrick is having surgery tomorrow morning at eight, actually.” Fourteen hours until Patrick’s fate was decided, he realized. 

Stevie bit the corner of her lip but otherwise showed no other emotion. “Okay.”

A small part of David flooded with jealousy. She would be so much better at this than him, never showing fear or letting panic take over. All David did was worry Patrick, probably. 

Still, David had gotten slightly better in recent years, and he could learn from her for the next day or two. 

For the rest of the night, Stevie and David did their best to fully distract Patrick, keeping him laughing and poking fun at each other. It almost felt normal, like she’d come in the store to harass them rather than came to say her farewells before both their lives possibly changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllll kids here’s another one. Halfway done! thoughts? criticism? also, the title/chapter titles is a troye sivan song in case you were interested.


	3. Make you stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably some medical inaccuracies lol. I based it off my own surgery, waiting on someone else’s surgery, and my vast knowledge of greys, so it’s close but still. I’m no doctor.

Patrick’s parents arrived around 5:30 the next morning. Their presence was a sobering reminder of the situation at hand, but it comforted Patrick. His mom never let go of Patrick’s hand.

A nurse came in about seven, finally forcing Patrick to put on the hospital gown but allowing him to keep his jeans on. Every second passing felt like the room was slowly closing in on David. Though it wasn’t a huge possibility, this could be the last time he saw Patrick. What are you supposed to say in that moment? He wanted to tell him everything he hadn’t gotten a chance to really tell him yet, like how his life was so much better with Patrick in it, that who knows where he’d be now without him, that the store never would’ve worked without him, that Patrick was the first person he trusted with absolutely everything, that he taught him to be vulnerable. He wanted to say all that and more, but doing so would sound like a final goodbye, and he didn’t want to freak Patrick out. Instead, he held the hand Marcy wasn’t holding and kissed the knuckles absentmindedly while he listened to everyone else talk. 

He knew everyone else was talking just to calm their nerves, and that he should probably be joining in, but that seemed impossible at the moment. He couldn’t think about anything trivial when his husband was about to be whisked away for fucking brain surgery. Nothing else mattered but Patrick. 

It was a lifetime too early when a nurse finally arrived to take him away.

David stood awkwardly as everyone else gave their hugs and kisses and shared encouraging words. Even Stevie whispered something David couldn’t hear, but it made Patrick smile.

After everyone shuffled out of the way, David took his spot next to Patrick. His expression probably gave away how completely unprepared for this moment he felt, and he found he was dangerously close to a panic. This could be the last moment, really. For all he knew. 

David looked into Patrick’s peaceful brown eyes and decided to believe that it wasn’t. The world would not let Patrick end things this way, his final sight a gross hospital room with sickly strangers just a wall away. He had to believe Patrick would live, that by some miracle Dr. Brown would remove all the cancer completely, and the Brewers could go back to pretending this had never happened. 

He had to believe. 

David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders and kissed whatever part of his face he could reach with his eyes closed. “I love you,” he murmured, pressing his cheek to Patrick’s warmer one. 

Patrick tightened his grip on David. “I know you do.” He pulled away cupped David’s face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye. “I love you too.”

David bit his lip and nodded, keeping himself under control the best he could. 

He stepped away and let a stranger wheel away the adorable blond guy with a baby face that had changed his life so unexpectedly all those years ago. 

***

It was a six hour procedure. They had to leave the room Patrick was in, since they’d be moving him to intensive care after the surgery, so David sat in the waiting room. He felt completely vulnerable with all these uncomfortably close strangers sitting just a few chairs away, no doubt worrying about their own loved one. The atmosphere was heavy.

At ten, Stevie went to buy them all Starbucks (a commodity that Schitt’s Creek could not boast). At noon, the Brewers brought lunch for all of them. David never moved, except to go to the bathroom once and to stretch his legs by means of moving to another seat three times. 

He tried to distract himself with magazine reading, with games on his phone, but it did little to easy his mind. At one point, Stevie grabbed his knee and said “David you’ve gotta stop bouncing, you’re going to drive me insane,” and David was so surprised that he was bouncing unconsciously that he didn’t have a comeback. 

After almost six hours, he stood and began pacing. 

Six hours came and went and no one came to update him, to even let him know if Patrick was alive. His mind filled with all the worst possibilities: Patrick had coded, they needed all hands on deck and no one was free to update him. They were covering his lifeless body with a sheet and David would never get to see his smile again. Why hadn’t he said what he wanted to say? Why hadn’t he hugged him longer? 

He felt Stevie’s eyes on him as he paced, but he didn’t care. Besides her, everyone else was a few rows away. Patrick’s parents had gone somewhere, but David couldn’t remember where it was and he didn’t care enough to try. 

After a hundred years of waiting and pacing, Dr. Brown approached him, her expression frustratingly unreadable.

David didn’t even try to look calm. “How is he? Is he okay? It’s been more than six hours.”

“Yes, well, it took longer than expected because we ran into some difficulty.” David sucked in a breath as she continued, “The mass was rooted more deeply in his brain than we originally thought. We removed as much as we could, but unfortunately we couldn’t get all of it.” She gave David a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry.”

David’s head was spinning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Oh,” he finally choked out.

She touched his arm comfortingly, but it felt so alien, so Not Patrick that it didn’t matter. He jerked himself away and felt himself collapsing on the floor, not thinking enough to be grateful the waiting room was near empty. He didn’t care who saw this. This was the universe laughing at him, taking out his every transgression on innocent Patrick. He’d never even see another fucking anniversary with Patrick. Four years was all they would get, and it wasn’t enough.

He buried his face in his knees, and he felt the moisture soaking through to his legs almost immediately. He was hardly breathing; his tears came silently, and he felt warm arms around his shaking shoulders. 

“You’re okay,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. David lifted his head just enough to peek at her, blinking away his tear-blurred vision. Stevie.

“Oh God, Stevie.” His voice was strangled. “Stevie.”

He couldn’t see her clearly, but the thought he saw moisture on her own cheeks. “I know,” she murmured, pulling him in closer. “David, I know.”

But she didn’t. She loved Patrick, sure. But not the way David did. She didn’t spend countless nights with limbs tangled and “i love you”s whispered into the dark. She didn’t sit on the counter, legs dangling, stealing kisses whenever possible as he cooked. She didn’t argue over what movie to inevitable ignore in favor of making out. She didn’t have Patrick, the way he did. Patrick was not her sun, as he was David’s. Patrick was a tiny asteroid crashing into her atmosphere. She didn’t understand.

He buried his face in her shoulder and flooded her shirt with his unyielding wave of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. But I’m not. I just really needed some angst so i delivered for myself. 
> 
> Only one more chapter ;) we’ll see what happens....


	4. Without you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i hope you enjoy this but i seriously doubt you will

They say that when you receive news like that, when you know your time, either on earth or with a loved one, is drawing to a close, you suddenly realize everything you took for granted, or that you suddenly want to experience all the things you want to do. He felt like he was _supposed_ to feel that, but all he really wanted to do was keep going the way they were. There was nothing he wanted to do with Patrick other than what they were already doing; that is, he felt perfectly fulfilled exactly the way things were, and he sensed Patrick felt the same way. 

So, they carried on, pressed forward only by vague sense of urgency that seemed to weigh every room. They kissed lazily in the back room when customers were absent. They cooked dinner, David sitting on the counter while Patrick complained about him not helping, shooting him crooked smiles to show he wasn’t really mad. They went grocery shopping and argued about whether more expensive wine was a good use of their money, and they spent nights getting tipsy drinking too much cheap wine. They pressed kisses to foreheads and lips and bare skin in the dark of night, murmured “i love you” at night and called it out proudly at work, took shitty selfies David vowed never to delete. But still, nothing had changed; except, perhaps, every moment felt more intense, more intimate than the last, like their souls were bared for all to see. It was like a calm water washing over them. 

It was new for David, but he liked it. If only it wasn’t caused by such a terrible tragedy. 

That was the thing, too. David didn’t feel pressured, like time was choking the life out of him, though it was was quite literally doing that to Patrick. Obviously he wanted nothing more than to grow old with him, to sit in rocking chairs and hold hands at mcdonald’s and go hiking and freak out at their first gray hairs together. He would give up anything to have that. 

He knew he was lucky. Old David, before he’d moved to this hellhole, would never have even gotten a chance at forever with someone. His time with Patrick was drawing to a close, but he could hardly despair. For the first time in his desolate life, he got a glimpse of eternity, even if it was fleeting. He was losing his chance at forever, but for the first time he grasped what he was missing all along. 

He couldn’t help but feel lucky. It felt like a gut punch every time reflected on all he had. He didn’t deserve an ounce of it. Rather than spiraling into a depression, overdosing on drugs or spending nights nursing a drink alone at a bar, he was grateful. For every second, no matter how painfully short. Old David wouldn’t have been nearly as healthy. 

Patrick had changed him so much more than he’d realized. He’d scraped away every scarred layer and cut right to the tender parts, and his heart ached so beautifully because of him. He wouldn’t change a thing, if it meant he could have Patrick, no matter how short their time was. 

***

It was four months after the diagnosis when David really started to notice a difference in Patrick. It started slowly, barely noticeable, like gripping the rail as they walked to their apartment, or sleeping in just a little longer in the morning. These instances evolved into hands shaking as they buttoned his stupidly adorable blue shirt, eyes focusing a little too hard as he read the price to a customer, to the point that Patrick got winded walking too long and needed David’s support to keep him from falling, couldn’t focus his eyes enough to read and needed David to translate the blurs. It was torturous for David to watch, his innocent life making slow circles around the drain. 

He supposed he was lucky to get a warning at all. 

***

It was December 5th, a Sunday, when Patrick was too weak to even get out of bed. 

The day seemed entirely too short and dragged on infinitely. 

The room was full of loved ones: their parents, Stevie, Alexis and Ted, but David hardly even noticed them. Patrick was propped up by a couple of pillows, just barely strong enough to turn his face to look at David sitting in a chair next to him, gold rings firmly clasping his comparably paler digits. 

“David,” he croaked out, his eyes impossibly soft as they met his husband’s brown ones. “Talk... talk to me. Wanna hear your voice.”

David drew in a breath as he realized the implication. This was it, then. 

He told Patrick everything he always meant to tell him. Everyone else disappeared; he heard and saw no one besides Patrick. The room might as well have been empty. 

“I’m different, because of you.” His voice cracked, and he coughed to clear it before continuing. “I don’t hate myself, or my life. I know what it’s like to love someone. I’m so glad I got to build this life with you, here. Even in this- this shit hole.” His voice caught. How do you tell someone how much they’ve turned your life upside down, in a good way? 

Patrick squeezed hand, so light David barely felt it. He continued, “You turned my life upside down. You taught me how to cook and read a spreadsheet.” He laughed weakly through his babbling, and Patrick smiled softly at him. “You grounded me, gave me a safe place. I’ve never... I’ve never had that before you. I’ve never trusted anyone like you. I don’t think I even knew how to trust before you.” He brushed away a tear, despite his resolve not to show Patrick his sadness. He only wanted to show him love. How good and whole David was now because of him. 

Patrick closed his eyes, and David knew any second could be his last. He thought back to every sweet moment, every tender kiss, every hug, every goofy smile and heart eyes. A memory surfaced in his brain, their very first date. How awkward it was, how totally Patrick it was for him to give him a heartfelt gift for the first time in David’s life. The kiss they shared in the car. How Patrick had looked at him, so vulnerable, and thanked him. He had no reason to thank David. David had every reason to thank him. Before Patrick, his whole world was greyscale. He showed him a little blue wouldn’t hurt him.

God, David loved him so much his heart burned. 

He leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of his ear. “Patrick, thank you.” He let out a strangled sob, leaning his forehead on his shoulder. “Thank you, Patrick. Oh my god, thank you. I couldn’t- I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t be the same without you.” The words fell out of his mouth and he paused, trying to catch his breath. He felt the rise and fall of Patrick’s chest beneath him, but it was slowing. 

Patrick made him a whole person. Strong, confident, vulnerable. 

Old David wouldn’t have survived this, would probably run away to get some STDs or drive an expensive car off a cliff. New David, changed David, the David Patrick shaped, wasn’t that person. 

Patrick’s David would hurt, but he’d regrow. He’d feel again. He’d love again. 

He sniffed, trying to at least not snot on his husband in his final moments. “Patrick, I’m gonna be okay. I want you to know that. Need- need you to know that.” He squeezed his hand but got no return squeeze. “I love you, I love you.” Patrick’s chest fell and didn’t rise again. David felt his face grow warm as tears fell ungraciously from his eyes. “Thank you, Patrick. For everything. For what you gave me. Thank you.”

Patrick didn’t respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry.
> 
> Thank you guys for the kind feedback. I’m gonna be honest, when this idea first came to me it was hardly about Patrick (hence why this is so David-centric). Mainly, i wanted to convey how much David had changed. I was driving one day and i realized how much different David was because of Patrick, how newly whole he was, and I wanted to convey that. I know this is sad but my intention was to be happysad, to mainly show david growing and relying on himself, just how patrick taught him. killing patrick wasn’t the main focus but merely a means to an end (does that make me heartless?). so thank you guys for reading, and i hope this served its purpose.


End file.
